


Serenade Me

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Ash AU, Benny Lafitte AU, Cain AU, F/M, Female Reader AU, Fluff, John Winchester AU, Ruby AU, Rufus Turner AU, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6236653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is a singer that works in Ruby’s nightclub. Ruthless gangster John Winchester comes into the club one night and takes an interest in her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was another late night with the usual crowd at Ruby’s. While Ash plucked the guitar and Rufus worked the drums, you took your place behind the microphone. More than several men gave excited shouts; some of which were quickly _shushed_ by their dates.

The women were there to hear you sing. The men, on the other hand, were there to _watch_ you sing. 

With one hand on the microphone stand, the other was perched on a bouncing hip.

 _If you ever go down Trinidad_  
They make you feel so very glad  
Calypso sing and make up rhyme  
Guarantee you one real good fine time  
Drinkin’ rum and Coca Cola  
Go down Point Koomahnah  
Both mother and daughter  
Workin’ for the Yankee dollar  
Oh, beat it man, beat it

It was an upbeat song; exciting the patrons, giving them a craving for the liquor you sang about. Funny how the power of suggestion worked.

Ruby, the owner of the nightclub, sat at the end of the bar, dipping her head in your direction as she raised a martini glass.

 _Since the Yankee come to Trinidad_  
They got the young girls all goin’ mad  
Young girls say they treat ‘em nice  
Make Trinidad like paradise  
Drinkin’ rum and Coca Cola  
Go down Point Koomahnah  
Both mother and daughter  
Workin’ for the Yankee dollar  
Oh, you vex me, you vex me

Your eyes fell to the back of the nightclub where a handful of men in dark fedoras and long coats strode in. The man that entered first ran a finger over the brim of his hat in greeting before bending down to whisper something in Ruby’s ear. The blush that colored her cheeks could be seen a mile away.

 _From Chicachicaree to Mona’s Isle_  
Native girls all dance and smile  
Help soldier celebrate his leave  
Make every day like New Year’s Eve  
Drinkin’ rum and Coca Cola  
Go down Point Koomahnah

The weight of his gaze was like a physical blow, one you felt deep in your belly. A flame you hadn’t felt since your husband died in the war began to flicker. It took all your willpower to look away, find another man to flirt with while you sang.

 _Both mother and daughter_  
Workin’ for the Yankee dollar  
It’s a fact, man, it’s a fact  
In old Trinidad, I also fear  
The situation is mighty queer  
Like the Yankee girl, the native swoon  
When she hear Der Bingo croon  
Drinkin’ rum and Coca Cola  
Go down Point Koomahnah  
Both mother and daughter  
Workin’ for the Yankee dollar

After taking a shot of whiskey at the bar, he wound through the crowd and sat two tables back, directly in the middle of the room.

 _Out on Manzanella Beach_  
G.I. romance with native peach  
All night long, make tropic love  
Next day, sit in hot sun and cool off  
Drinkin’ rum and Coca Cola  
Go down Point Koomahnah  
Both mother and daughter  
Workin’ for the Yankee dollar  
It’s a fact, man, it’s a fact  
Rum and Coca Cola  
Rum and Coca Cola  
Workin’ for the Yankee dollar

Applause filled the nightclub when the spotlights went dark; the only lights were the flickering candles in the middle of every table.

You turned to your band when Rufus cleared his throat, “you ok, ma’am? You look a little flushed.”

Smiling sweetly at him, you tucked some hair behind your ear, “I’m fine, Rufus, thank you.”

“One more?”

“You boys up for 1922?”

Ash blew out a breath, “you know that song gets ‘em good and riled up, ma’am.”

You knew exactly how the song and dance would affect the patrons. What the men behind you didn’t know was just how much it affected you, too. The thrill of performing in front of a crowd always got your blood pumping, but this song in particular… whooo boy, that gave you another kind of thrill. A thrill you suddenly found yourself wanting to share with someone.

Sliding out of the black shawl, Ash traded his guitar for a saxophone. The room stayed silent until Rufus drug a steel brush over the snare.

One stage light flicked to life as you pulled off black gloves, dropped them at your feet, and snapped candy apple red tipped fingers.

_You had a plenty money 1922  
You let other women make a fool of you_

The man in your direct line of sight shifted in his seat. Not because he was uncomfortable, just an unconscious shift of hips  because you had piqued his interest.

 _Why don’t you do right_  
Like some other men do?  
Get out of here and get me some money too?

Even though the microphone cord was thick and difficult to maneuver, you pulled the microphone free from its stand. With the assistance of the bodyguard, you descended the steps, feeling the slit of your red dress expose your legs with every step.

 _You’re sitting down wondering what it’s all about_  
You ain’t got no money they will put you out  
Why don’t you do right  
Like some other men do?  
Get out of here and get me some money too?

Every man in the room sat on the edge of their seats. They knew the rules; _no touching_ , but that didn’t stop them from inching close as you strode by.

_If you had prepared twenty years ago  
You wouldn’t be a-wanderin’ now from door to door_

You stopped in front of the table where the stranger was still wearing his fedora. From what you could see, he had a strong jaw and full… sinfully full lips.

 _Why don’t you do right_  
Like some other men do?  
Get out of here and get me some money too?

Reaching out, you grabbed his hat and placed it atop your head. It was then you knew who exactly you were singing to; John Winchester, the gangster all other gangsters feared.

Not missing a beat, you circled him, dragging a hand up his arm and over the expanse of his shoulders. His suit felt tailored, expensive, like Heaven.

_I fell for you jiving and I took you in  
Now all you’ve got to offer me is a drink of gin_

He had thick, raven hair that practically begged to be touched. John turned, watching over the shoulder you just squeezed as you took the whiskey glass; emptying it without cringing.

 _Why don’t you do right_  
Like some other men do?  
Get out of here and get me some money too?

You were standing in front of him again, bending ever so slightly at the waist until you were close enough to smell his spicy aftershave.

 _Why don’t you do right_  
Like some other men do?  
Like some other men do?

Normally, you’d have belted out those last lines, but the way John stared at you like you were the only person in the room… well, it almost took your breath away.

You dropped your mouth to his cheek, smearing his skin with crimson lipstick, trying not to sigh when his five o’clock shadow bit into your lips.

Benny’s hand on the small of your back cut through the sudden tension. “Come on, sug,” the bodyguard’s southern drawl pulled you back to the here and now. He ushered you to the stage and behind the curtains where you could finally breathe air that didn’t smell like smoke and whiskey.

* * *

You placed the fedora on the bar, “I believe this belongs to you.”

John, with an elbow on the bar and bottom lip between his teeth, turned and pushed the hat until it bumped your hand, “looks better on you, doll.”

 _Lord have mercy._ His voice was deep, husky; everything that made goosepimples blossom on the back of your neck and arms. “I would, but it’s not really my style.”

“Trust me, anything you put on is your style.”

Heat flooded your chest and face. You dropped wide eyes to the hat both of you were still clinging to, “I’m Y/N.”

He signaled to the bartender for two glasses of whiskey, sliding a large bill across the chipped wood, “have a drink with me, Y/N.”

“I… I shouldn’t,” the way his dark eyes sparkled made your heart hammer.

“But you will.” And John was right.

You swallowed the amber liquid as if you were dying of thirst, his eyes never leaving yours. Standing, he buttoned his suit jacket and slid on the matching wool long coat. How did he look graceful doing something so simple?

John held out his arm, “I want you to come with me.”

Confusion quickly doused the fire in your veins, “excuse me?! I’m not that kind of woman.”

“Never said that, doll.”

Shaking your head, you took a small step back from the man towering over you, “goodnight, John.”

He chuckled, palming your elbow as you brushed past, “you know who I am.”

“Of course I know who you are, Johnny. Half of Detroit knows who you are.”

You could swear the man in front of you groaned, “I like the way you say that.”

“What, your name?” Even though you were wearing a jacket, you could feel his thumb sweep back and forth.

Even though the pair of you were less than a foot apart, John took a step closer, flooding your senses with everything about him. He nodded and licked his lips, dropping a hungry gaze to your mouth.

You had to get out of there. Not because John Winchester scared you. Not because you found him unbelievably unattractive. It was because you were so attracted to him that you had to leave. You slid your arm from his hand and pressed another kiss to his still crimson stained cheek, “goodnight.”

Benny, having already pushed the door open, nodded as you turned away from John.

“Drive me home, Ben?”

Blue eyes met yours when he smiled, “of course, Sug.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Gonna be alright, Sug?” Benny stood outside the door to your apartment, hands behind his back, crystal blue eyes scanning the room behind you. He was your dead husband’s best friend and would do anything to protect you; giving up his life if the occasion called for it.

Giving a small smile, you stood on tiptoes and brushed his cheek with your lips, “I’ll be alright, Ben, thank you.”

“You need anythin’-”

The small weight of your hand on his was enough to stop him, “Benny.”

The burly Louisianan dropped a kiss to the top of your head, “night.” Satisfied there was nothing lurking in the shadows, he pulled the door closed. 

You didn’t hear him leave until you locked the door. Sighing heavily with your forehead against the painted-too-many-times oak, you kicked off your heels and wiggled your toes. You were about to turn away and make a cup of tea when there was a knock on the door.

It was later than late; almost one in the morning. You wanted to ignore it, drink your tea, and go to bed. But they weren’t taking the silence very well because they knocked again; harder than before.

With slightly shaking hands you undid the lock and cracked open the door.

The owner of a dark grey long coat and matching suit pulled off his hat, “Y/N.”

“John, what are you doing here? It’s late.” You should shut the door, throw the lock, and try to forget the dangerous man standing outside your door. But you didn’t. Mostly because you really wanted to know why he was there.

He licked his lips and the wrinkle between his thick brows softened slightly, “I wanted to make sure you made it home safe.”

“I did. Benny made sure of that.”

The corner of his mouth curved, pushing a dimple deep into his cheek. He stepped closer, spread a hand on the door so you couldn’t slam it on him, and looked down at you through impossibly thick lashes. When a hand fell to your hip and squeezed, the previously stomped out fire roared to life, all but searing every last nerve ending.

“Good,” his breath was hot on your face as he pulled you into him, spreading his hand through the sash at the small of your back.

You didn’t… couldn’t stop him because the part of you that wanted to know why he was here was holding its breath in anticipation. Your hand fell to the crook of his arm, nails scraping into the thick wool.

When you didn’t pull away from him, hit him, or push him out the door and demand he never come back, he bent down and kissed you.

It had been five years since you kissed another man that wasn’t your husband. Five long years. And in those five years, you had forgotten how soft another man’s lips could be. How gentle or forceful they were. How gloriously full and warm they were.

Tommy was a hell of a kisser. He could make your toes curl without even trying. But John… John set off fireworks in the pit of your stomach.

You arched into John, stood on your toes, and tangled a hand in his hair. He tasted like cigar smoke and whiskey, something you found yourself craving the longer you kissed. You could also taste the danger being with him entailed. But it didn’t scare you like you thought it would.

Pulling back, John rubbed your nose with his. His eyes were slow to open and when they did, lust blown pupils were all you could see, all you knew he could see when he looked into your eyes.

With crimson stained lips, John smirked and dropped the fedora on your head. “Go out with me.”

Not trusting your voice, you gripped the door handle and nodded.

John stood tall and adjusted his jacket, “Saturday, seven o’clock sharp.” And with that, he turned on his heel and strode away, wiping away the stain of your kiss from his mouth.

* * *

Saturday came both in the blink of an eye and not soon enough. And by the time it showed up, you were a bundle of nerves.

Benny took notice of your behavior and pulled you to the side, “what’s eatin’ you, Sug?”

You hadn’t told him about the upcoming date because you knew exactly how he would react. Not because you were beginning to move on after Tommy’s death, but because of _who_ you might be moving on with.

“I… I have a date tonight,” you twisted a napkin in your hands, staring intently at it.

“Y/N, it’s ok to want to start dating. It’s not like Tommy died last week.”

You looked up at your friend and swallowed hard, “that’s not why I’m nervous.”

Benny crossed his arms, “who is it?”

It wasn’t like you could, or wanted, to keep it a secret. You just didn’t want to upset your friend. Growing up, Benny didn’t have it very easy. He fell into the wrong crowd and got busted several times before going into the military. So you knew that dating a gangster would put a sour taste in his mouth.

You breathed out the name of the man that would pick you up in less than an hour.

He clenched his jaw and dropped fisted hands to his side. Expecting him to shout at you, tell you why John Winchester was a bad man, how you would get hurt; you were surprised when Benny shook his head and walked away.

“Benny, please-”

The slamming of a door ended the conversation with more finality than him walking away had. You wanted to run after him and explain yourself. Explain what you felt when John looked at you, when he kissed you. Explain how you hadn’t felt this alive since Tommy. But by the time you were standing in the parking lot, Benny’s car was speeding down the street; tires screaming against tar.

* * *

With a hand at the small of your back, John walked you down the narrow hall to the apartment you called home.

The night was better than you could have imagined, even after what happened with Benny.

Dinner was at Roma’s where John had paid the owners to close; the two of you being the only customers. It was nice not to have to strain to hear John over a crowd of excited, Italian diners.

After dinner, he tried to get you to go dancing, but it had been years since you stepped on the dance floor. Frankly, there were too many memories of Tommy that you didn’t feel like dealing with.

So he took you on a drive around Detroit in his ‘ _hot off the assembly line_ ’ Buick. It was black, purred like a kitten, and fast. There was one corner he took hard and fast enough that the tires squealed and you grabbed his forearm to keep from falling against him.

Standing outside the door with keys in hand and your back against the frame, John ran a finger along the side of your face and jaw, under your chin to your blush stained lips, “I wanna kiss you.”

His touch was like a feather and it sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted him to kiss you, too, but if it was anything like the last one, you weren’t sure you could stop with just a kiss.

You grabbed his wrist, rested your other hand against a stubbled cheek, and stared into his dark chocolate eyes, “Johnny…”

“What is it, doll?” he leaned into your hand, eyelashes fluttering at the small bite of you nails in his skin.

So many thoughts swirled in your mind like a tornado; you couldn’t pin one down long enough to fully grasp what it was that bothered you. You just knew that you started to feel bad. Not for getting back out there. Not for the man whose company you decided to keep. Not for-

His lips on yours interrupted the storm of thoughts, slicing through the commotion like a beacon. The red wine and whiskey still coated his tongue and lips, barely covering the tangy marinara sauce. You arched into him on instinct, carding your fingers through the hair that started to curl against his collar.

John moaned against your tongue and pressed you into the doorframe with his body. Wide hands slid beneath your jacket, over your hips, and up your back; pulling almost greedily on the silk covered buttons.

The spice of his cologne, the bite of alcohol on his tongue, the muscles that rippled beneath your touch; it all clouded your senses, tuning out the voice that was asking… begging you to slow down. But the one thing that made you end the kiss was the fact that John had tugged open three buttons on the back of your dress.

You were panting and pushing at his chest, “J- Johnny, stop.”

Rough hands fell to your hips as he licked his lips, washing away the stain of your kisses, “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

The gravelly timbre of his voice made your stomach somersault lazily, “me, too.”

“Is it safe to say I’ll see you again?” Standing back, he ran a hand through his mussed up hair.

Sliding a hand down the front of his tailored suit, you nodded, “I’d like that.”

John smirked before kissing you again, this one tamer compared to the last one; just a brush of lips and a sigh, “see you around, doll.”

With fingers on your kiss swollen lips, you watched him walk away with a swagger he didn’t have before. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that you all but fell back into the frame, grinning and sighing like a love-struck idiot.

* * *

John shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack behind the door. He could still smell her perfume, taste the bitter wine on her tongue, feel the silk buttons on her back, the curve of her hips pressing into his.

“What’s got you so happy, John?”

His mentor was sitting in front of the fireplace, nursing a glass of whiskey, long greying hair hanging in loose curls around his collar. “Nothing, sir.”

After John sat down, Cain took a drink, staring at his protege with judgemental eyes, “you got yourself a dame, haven’t you?”

“I might.”

“John, John, John… what have we discussed about that? You can’t go getting yourself doll dizzy if you’re to take over after I’m gone.”

John clenched his jaw as he stood, “what would you have me do?”

“Easy. Break it off with the dame.”

The thought made John’s stomach drop painfully, “no.”

Cain’s eyebrows rose and he jutted out his chin, raising his glass in salute, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Johnny.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Easy. Break it off with the dame.”

The thought made John’s stomach drop painfully, “no.”

Cain’s eyebrows rose and he jutted out his chin, raising his glass in salute, “don’t say I didn’t warn you, Johnny.”

With a hand in his pocket, John stared hard at his boss, “what about Colette?”

“Excuse me?”

Up until now, John had never spoken back to Cain. It had always been _yes, sir_ or _whatever you want._ But then he met Y/N and everything he wanted in life changed in the blink of an eye. Never did he think that he would want to settle down. Never did he think that he would want to get married and have kids.

“You’ve got Colette. Why can’t I have Y/N?” He hated how it made her sound, like she was property to be owned.

Cain drained the glass and set it on the small mahogany table, “that’s different, John.”

“How is it different? You love her, don’t you?”

He stood tall, rolling up the sleeves of the white linen shirt as he went, “you questioning me, boy?”

John knew he stepped over a boundary he never should have even toed, but since he was already in trouble, why stop there? “I just don’t understand why you get to have it; the family, the business, but I can’t.”

“I worked hard to get where I am, to where _we_ are. If you think I’m going to let some dame cloud up your mind and risk everything _I_ worked for, then I think we need to reevaluate your role.”

* * *

Your marriage with Tommy, your sex life to be more precise, had always been amazing. The pair of you had been what most people might call provocative; willing to try new things, never shy with each other, always exploring, always wanting… more of each other.

So when you fell into a dream full of John Winchester, you weren’t the least bit surprised.

R _ough hands grabbed your hips as he kissed down your belly. Burying his nose in your curls, he pulled in a deep breath, ‘damn, doll. You’re intoxicating.’_

_Stubble scraped against tender skin as he kissed lower; skin that hadn’t seen a man’s touch in five years. Your legs fell open at the urging of his hands and mouth, groaning when he kissed the damp folds that throbbed._

_His chuckle made you tingle and you couldn’t stop from pushing toward him, seeking out more of his touch. He looked up at you between the valley of your breasts and blinked heavily when he drug a finger through your lips. Back and forth. Back and forth in short strokes until finally, just when you thought you were going to beg him for it, he circled your clit._

_You cried out then; back arching, legs shaking, cumming almost immediately._

_John pressed a finger inside you, followed by another, stroking you in time with the thrust of your hips. He hissed when you clamped down on him, your slick covering him as the dam inside of you broke. Spreading your lips, he watched your clit pulse as you came on his hand and with a growl, he wrapped his mouth around it and sucked; flicking his tongue over it again and again until it hurt._

_With heat coursing through you, burning everything it touched, you grabbed the raven haired head between your legs and begged him to keep going._

_He hummed against your clit, nipping at it as he continued to stroke you, curling his fingers until he found the spot that made you fall apart at the seams. By the time he was done, you were a whimpering, writhing mess._

_Sloppy, slick-coated kisses were pressed into your thighs, belly, and breasts. By the time he reached your neck, your slick was gone, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t smell it._

_You turned to kiss him, catching him by surprise when you sucked on his bottom lip, moaning as you savored the bittersweet taste of yourself. He melted against you, covering your body with his, grinding his thick cock between the folds of your pussy._

_With a hand wrapped around himself, he worked your slick onto his wide cock-head, grunting against your tongue when you propped your feet on the bed and tilted your hips just right so that on the next pass, he pressed into you._

_His head fell and he watched himself sink in until his pelvic bone rested against yours. Hot breath fanned between your breasts as he reveled in the way you fluttered around him, stretching to accommodate his substantial size._

_Your heart pounded and your head buzzed. You’d never felt like this before; as if you were high on an illegal substance, as if you could feel it course through your veins, searing everything with euphoria. If it was like this every time, you never wanted to be apart from him ever again._

_John withdrew slowly, taking in the sight of your slick on him, until just the tip remained._

_Dragging your nails over his sides, you slung a leg over his hip, ‘Johnny, please.’_

_Never one to ignore the pleas of a woman, he obliged and snapped his hips down, driving you up the silken sheets._

_He quickly found a rhythm that you both liked. Your body rose off the bed only to be pushed down into the mattress; a squeak of cheap bed springs and a slap of wet skin echoing the motions._

_When he wasn’t kissing you, he was suckling your breasts; twirling his tongue around the pebbled skin only to tug on it with his teeth until you hissed. Rough, calloused hands worked down your sides, leaving angry red lines in their wake._

_Instead of cringing and recoiling from his touch, you asked… begged him to do it again. He asked the same of you when you raked your nails down his back, grabbed his ass, and pulled him deeper with every snap of his hips._

_‘Cum for me, doll,’ he panted against your ear._

_With a hand resting against your neck, thumb pressing into your pulse point, the over-tightened coil in your belly snapped._

You cried out as your eyes snapped open. Ragged breaths tore out of you, burning your lungs as you sat up and tried to gain your bearings. The sheets were a tangled mess and the linen nightgown you wore was sweat-soaked. Running a hand through your hair, you quickly found that it too was damp.

The small gold watch on your nightstand let you know just how early it was, 3:15AM. Dragging a hand down your face, you groaned when the ache between your legs failed to subside.

Your dreams had always been vivid, but even now, you could still feel, taste, and smell him. You needed a cold bath immediately.

* * *

It was difficult to hide the disappointment that punched you in the gut when you didn’t see Johnny the next night at Ruby’s. Or the next night. Or the next. But by the sixth night, you started to get scared. What if something happened to him?

You mentally berated yourself. It’s not like you asked if you were the only girl he was seeing. You wouldn’t be surprised if there were women he kept on the side; you saw how they looked at him. He was tall, handsome as hell, and bad, but my God, did he do it so very well.

A soft knock interrupted the barrage of negative names you had started to call yourself. You pulled yourself up from the chair and tugged the sash tight around your waist before opening the door a crack.

“Johnny,” you breathed his name in relief. Relief which quickly turned to shock when you got a glimpse at the other side of his face.

“Hey, doll,” his voice was gruffer than normal, making it sound like he gargled with glass.

You threw the door open and glanced down the hall as he lumbered in. He smelled like he took a bath in whiskey and applied copper as aftershave. Standing in front of him, you could see why.

His right eye was all but swollen shut; black and purple with a gash in his eyebrow and another smaller one by his eye. There was a smattering of smaller bruises on his chin and jaw that disappeared down his neck.

Biting your bottom lip, you ran into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth and iodine. It stung like a bitch, but it did the job. Aspirin, a needle, and thread were next. While you were gone, John had grabbed your only bottle of whiskey. It was cheap and bitter, but drink enough of it and you wouldn’t feel your toes.

Half an hour later, the dried blood was gone, the cuts were stitched, and the bottle of whiskey was empty.

You rested a hand on John’s, “what happened?”

Groaning, he gave a small shake of his head, “needed to be taught a lesson.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

Looking at you through his lashes, he sighed heavily, “shouldn’t have come here.”

“Johnny, please. Tell me what’s going on.” There was something different about him, and not just the cuts and bruises. Something deeper had changed in him… had changed him.

He clenched his jaw and pulled his hand from yours as he stood, wavering only slightly, “I have to go, Y/N.”

Your throat went thick and you couldn’t quite clear it away. You stood in front of him, hand on his chest, and tears in your eyes, “no.” He hadn’t said it was over before it really had a chance to begin, but you could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

“I have to, there’s no other way.”

“Why not?”

He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles, the stubble on his chin bit into your fingers, “goodbye.”

Squaring his shoulders, he walked around you and opened the door.


	4. Chapter 4

For whatever reason, Y/N wouldn’t look me in the eye. Rather, she was focusing on the napkin in her hands. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke, “I… I have a date tonight.”

Relief flooded through me. I was beginning to think something was really wrong, “Y/N, it’s ok to want to start dating. It’s not like Tommy died last week.”

That’s when she looked at me, guilt flooding her gorgeous y/c eyes, “That’s not why I’m nervous.”

 _Damn it._ “Who is it?”

Y/N breathed out the name of a certain gangster and it made my blood boil. Clenching my jaw, I dropped fisted hands to my side. I wanted to yell at her; tell her how bad of a man John Winchester was, how she would get hurt. But I didn’t do anything of the sort. Instead, I shook my head and walked away, doing my best to ignore her calling after me.

I don’t even remember getting in the car, or peeling out of the parking lot, or driving to the edge of town. It was all a blur; the lights on the buildings, the people out for an evening stroll, the sadness that clung to her words as she cried out to me. 

All I could see was red as my heart raced and my mind struggled to wrap around the news that Y/N was dating a gangster. And not just any gangster; the most notorious gangster in all of Detroit, second to Cain, of course. Everyone knew that Cain was molding John in his image; to take his place, and there was no way I would let Y/N be sucked into that kind of life. She deserved more, she deserved better. I wasn’t going to go back on my word to my best friend, Tommy.

As he laid there, choking on his own blood, I promised I would watch out for his wife, make sure she had everything she needed. And when it came time for her to date again, he was to be a good man; a man that would cherish her as much, if not more than he did.

How could John be that man with the company he kept, with the crimes he committed? Plain and simple, he couldn’t be. I had to do something. I just didn’t know what.

For the first time in five years, I left Y/N. I didn’t listen to her sing every night at Ruby’s. I didn’t drive or walk her home. Nothing that I have been doing since the war. Instead, I drove out of town that night, leaving her behind. I couldn’t be around her right now. Not because of her or the decision she had made, but I didn’t trust myself around John. If I were to see him, see her with him… I don’t know what I would have done. Scratch that. I knew exactly what I would have done and I’d be in jail for murder.

* * *

I had stayed away long enough; one week to be exact, and the guilt of leaving Y/N alone had started to get to me more than my disgust of who she had chosen to date. So I left the cheap motel and headed back to Detroit.

She knew my history, knew everything I had done, and yet she never batted an eye. She accepted me with open arms when Tommy introduced us. Maybe, just maybe, I could give John the benefit of the doubt.

It was late when I pulled up to her apartment building, nerves twisting my gut until I felt like I was going to throw up. If I didn’t get out of this car now, I’d never come back. Pulling on my hat, I got out and saw the lamp in her bedroom window was on. Good. The last thing I wanted to do was wake her up.

I knocked three times before she answered the door. When she did, her hair was mussed, her cheeks were flushed, and she was tying the belt of her bathrobe.

“Benny, what are you doin’ here?” She kept looking over her shoulder and trying to stand so that I wouldn’t look into the room, but I was a good six inches taller than her. A shadow crossed the room and the tell-tale sound of a belt buckle clattering was damn near deafening.

I looked down at her with dark eyes and all the rage I had managed to stomp down to almost nothing flared back to life, “Let me in, Y/N.”

* * *

“I have to go, Y/N.”

Your throat went thick and you couldn’t quite clear it away. You stood in front of him, hand on his chest, and tears in your eyes, “no.” He hadn’t said it was over before it really had a chance to begin, but you could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

“I have to, there’s no other way.”

“Why not?”

He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles, the stubble on his chin bit into your fingers, “goodbye.” Squaring his shoulders, he walked around you and opened the door.

You couldn’t let this happen, not when you had just started to feel alive again. Making up your mind, you spun on your heel and ran to block him from leaving. You couldn’t even imagine how pathetic you looked, “Please don’t leave, Johnny.”

John looked at you with stormy eyes and jaw set so tight it had to hurt. “I have to.”

Sobs threatened to choke you, “Explain it to me, because… I thought there was something between us.”

“There is. I just-”

Your chin quaked when his head dropped. Resting a hand against his cheek, you moved so that you were looking up at him, your chest against his, “What, Johnny?”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt. And this… if I stay, you’ll get hurt, Y/N.” He rested a hand between your shoulder blades, long fingers spread and digging into the thin material of your robe and nightgown.

The heat of his hand seeped through your clothes and settled into your bones. It was a feeling you lost when Tommy died. A feeling you didn’t want to go any longer without. With eyes shut, thick lashes fanned against his skin, and with every breath he took, full lips pursed before relaxing; blowing hot breath on your face. He said he had to go, but he wasn’t making any moves to do so. The next step was up to you. John Winchester was relinquishing control. 

You pushed up and captured his lips in yours, moaning heavily when he sank into you. With his hand at your back, he pulled you into the apartment and kicked the door shut.

He tasted like smoke and whiskey, smelled like spice and expensive silk. Rough hands pawed at you, pulling the robe away and throwing it on the couch before lifting you off the floor.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked, kissing him hungrily while your fingers went to work on the buttons of his linen shirt. Pushing it off his shoulders, you drug your nails into his skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he was rock solid against you, tenting his silk trousers. You ground against him, fueling the fire in your belly and pussy. He ripped off his shirt, followed by your nightgown, and threw them both to the floor.

In one quick move, you were on your back and John, still wearing his trousers, covered your body with his. You laid there, writhing and panting as he worshiped you with his mouth and hands. His stubble and callouses burned your skin only to be soothed by a swipe of his tongue.

After he slid cotton panties down your legs, they fell open at the urging of his hands and mouth. You couldn’t stop from groaning when he kissed the damp folds that throbbed.

His chuckle made you tingle and you pushed toward him, seeking more of his touch. He looked up at you between the valley of your breasts and blinked heavily, dragging a thick finger through your lips. Back and forth in short strokes until finally, just when you thought you were going to beg him for it, he circled your clit.

You cried out then; back arching, legs shaking, cumming almost immediately.

John pressed a finger inside you, followed by another, stroking you in time with the thrust of your hips. He hissed when you clamped down on him, your slick covering him as the dam inside of you broke. Spreading your lips, he watched your clit pulse as you came on his hand and with a growl, he wrapped his mouth around it and sucked; flicking his tongue over it again and again until it hurt.

With heat coursing through you, burning everything it touched, you grabbed the raven haired head between your legs and begged him to keep going.

He hummed against your clit, nipping at it as he continued to stroke you, curling his fingers until he found the spot that made you fall apart at the seams. By the time he was done, you were a whimpering, writhing mess. Sloppy, slick-coated kisses were pressed into your thighs, belly, and breasts. By the time he reached your neck, your slick was gone, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t smell it.

You turned to kiss him, catching him by surprise when you sucked on his bottom lip, moaning as you savored the bittersweet taste of yourself. He melted against you, covering your body with his, grinding his thick cock between the folds of your pussy.

With a hand wrapped around himself, he worked your slick onto his wide cock-head, grunting against your tongue when you propped your feet on the bed and tilted your hips just right so that on the next pass, he pressed into you.

He dropped his head and watched you take in every inch until his pelvic bone rested against yours. Hot breath fanned between your breasts as he reveled in the way you fluttered around him, stretching to accommodate his substantial size.

Your heart pounded and your head buzzed, you’d never felt like this before; as if you were high on an illegal substance, as if you could feel it course through your veins, searing everything with euphoria. If it was like this every time, you never wanted to be apart from him ever again.

John withdrew slowly, taking in the sight of your slick on him, until just the tip remained.

Dragging your nails down his sides, you slung a leg over his hip, “Johnny, please.”

Never one to ignore the pleas of a woman, he obliged and snapped his hips down, driving you into the bed. A rhythm you both liked was quickly established. Your body rose, only to be pushed down into the mattress with a grunt; a squeak of cheap bed springs and a slap of wet skin echoing the motions.

When John wasn’t kissing you, he was suckling your breasts; twirling his tongue around the pebbled skin only to tug on it with his teeth until you hissed. Rough, calloused hands worked down your sides, marking your delicate skin.

Instead of cringing and recoiling from his touch, you asked… begged him to do it again. He asked the same of you when you raked your nails down his back, grabbed his ass, and pulled him deeper with every snap of his hips.

“Cum for me, doll,” he panted against your ear.

With a hand resting against your neck, thumb pressing into your pulse point, the over-tightened coil in your belly snapped. You came with your mouth slung open, grunting almost noiselessly as John continued to pound you into the mattress. He snapped his hips several more times before finding his own release, pulsing inside you as he came in thick streams.

* * *

John’s heart beat steadily against your cheek and you found the rise and fall of his chest soothing, pulling you toward sleep. You were just about to give into the darkness when someone knocked on the door.

The man whose legs were tangled with yours looked down at you with furrowed brows, “You expectin’ someone, doll?”

You shook your head, going to answer when another set of rapid raps interrupted you. John sat on the edge of the bed as you threw previously discarded clothes at him. Your bathrobe was draped over the couch, but you couldn’t find your nightgown. You threw on the robe and ran a hand through your messy hair just as the person knocked again.

You were tying the belt of the robe when you pulled open the door. You knew exactly how it looked; your hair messy and crimson coloring your cheeks. “Benny, what are you doin’ here?” The last thing you wanted was a scuffle, but nerves got the better of you. You kept throwing glances over your shoulder and moved to try and keep Benny from seeing John, but it was no use. Your friend was at least six inches taller than you and it was when John’s belt buckle clattered that you knew it was over.

The rage on Benny’s face made you shake, “Let me in, Y/N.”

“Benny, please. Just-”

His large hand slapped against the door and pushed, flinging you to the side with it. He stormed in, rage flowing off him like tidal waves, just as John stepped out of your room.

John’s eyes went wide at the sight of the enraged Louisianian, “Y- you must be Benny.”

“What do you think you’re doin’ here?”

You hardly recognized the voice of your friend. Your hands shook as you approached him slowly from the side, “I invited him in. Benny, please. I… I know that you don’t approve, but-”

Blue eyes narrowed as he continued to stare down the gangster, “I want you gone, Winchester.”

John probably did the worst thing he could have in that moment; he chuckled, “Hate to break it to you, pal, but the lady wants me here.”

“Don’t matter what Y/N wants. I’m here to tell you that _I_ don’t want you here. Ever.” Neither of you saw Benny slip a hand into his pocket.

You came to stand next to John, “Don’t you think I should have a say in this?”

Benny shook his head once and that was when you saw a flicker of something metallic in his hand. And in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

John did two things at once; pushed you so that you fell awkwardly into the chair you used for reading and threw his jacket in Benny’s face as he rushed the gangster. The two men collided in the middle of the room with a thunk. John’s shoulder sank into Benny’s stomach, forcing the burly man to the ground.

Panic pulled you from the chair and you cried out, begging for them to stop fighting. But they couldn’t hear you over their own shouts and grunts from being kicked and punched. They were moving too fast, you couldn’t see what was going on, and somewhere in the chaos, you lost track of the switchblade.

That is until the blade hit home, sinking deep into someone’s belly. Both men instantly stopped moving and it felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. The rush of blood in your ears was deafening as one man stood tall, hands shaking, eyes wide.

You don’t know what sent you into shock first. Who was bleeding or who was holding the knife.


	5. Chapter 5

Benny whined low and heavy in his throat, cringing as the weight of John moved away. With wide eyes, John looked at you as he stood, his red-slicked hands shaking. The switchblade clattered to the floor and that’s what snapped you into motion.

After grabbing towels from the bathroom, you dropped to the floor, knees sliding in the warm blood that flowed from Benny’s stomach. John, on his knees as well, moved Benny’s hands out of the way so you could press a towel against his stomach.

“I… I’m sorry, Sug.” Benny coughed wetly, groaning in agony as pain roared through him.

Crying, you looked at your friend; face ashen, blood drops on his lips and chin. Despair clung to your voice, “Hang on, Benny. You’re gonna be just fine.”

John looked frantically around the room, “Do you have a phone?”

“Don’t have those kinds of funds, Johnny.” While telephones weren’t exactly new to Detroit, only select types of people could afford them. You guessed that, given what John did for a living, he had at least one.

“Damn!” The curse came out harsher than he intended.

You turned your attention to Benny, whose blood squeezed between your fingers and soaked into your bathrobe. He shifted under your hands, “Sug… p- please don’t be mad-”

“Oh, Ben, no. I’m not mad.” Tears fell from your lashes as you pressed a kiss to his forehead. His skin was clammy against your lips and his lungs rattled with every shuddering breath he took.

He lifted a bloody hand to your neck, stroking a thumb along your jaw, “Shoulda done better at bein’ your friend.”

You leaned into his hand and grabbed his wrist, “Benny, stop. You’re gonna be fine. Right John?”

John looked at you with sorrow-filled eyes, “S- sure. Right as rain, Benny. Right as rain.”   

“Liars, both a’ya,” another wet cough burst out of him.

You tried to speak, but your throat was too thick. Your hand shook as you ran it through Benny’s hair. There was no point in lying to yourself any longer. Benny was going to die, there was no magic cure, there was no way out of this. “Say hi to Tommy for me.”

Benny chuckled ruefully, “A’course I will, Sug. First thing Imma do.”

Another kiss was pressed to his forehead and when you pulled back, he was breathing erratically and normally sparkling blue eyes began to go dark, “I love you, Benny.”

“L- love you, too, Y/N.”

The final sound he made as he breathed his last breath, was a wet rattle that would haunt your dreams for years to come. His hand fell from your face and into your lap, his eyes lost all focus, and finally, after several long moments, the blood stopped flowing.

John sat back with a heavy sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his shirt. He watched as you sat there and waited for your friend to blink. You weren’t sure how long you sat there and prayed that it was a nightmare. But no matter how many times you told yourself none of this was real, Benny didn’t stir.

It was when John stood behind you and dropped a hand to your shoulder that you fell apart. Sobs tore out of you until your chest and sides hurt. You clutched his back until your fingertips hurt and your nails felt like they were going to tear off. And even then, you didn’t let go.

He kissed your head and stroked your back until the tears stopped. “I’m sorry, doll. I never meant-”

“N- no… I know that, Johnny. It… it was an accident.” You stepped back and wiped at your face with the back of your wrist, not wanting to spread the blood further.

Benny stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes and it was disturbing, to say the least. John turned you around, bending down to your level, “We gotta get the cops.”

You cleared the anguish from your throat, “You gotta get out of here. If the cops see you here-”

“I won’t go.”

“I’ll say it was dark and I heard a noise-”

John shook his head, “No, Y/N.”

“You’ll go to jail, Johnny. All I have to say is that I… I was scared for my life.” Your chin quaked at just the thought of being the one to stab your best friend, but this was the only thing you could think of. If John went to jail, they’d never let him out.

He grit his teeth as he stood tall, “I don’t like this.”

“I’ve lost so much. I just… I can’t lose you, too.”

John gave you a bruising kiss until the pair of you couldn’t breathe, “I can’t lose you, either.”

You let loose your grip of his shirt and sighed, “Go out the back door. Go now.” You kept your eyes closed because you couldn’t watch him walk away. Because if you watched him walk away, you might never recover. God knows where he was going or when you’d see him again.

When the door latched, you still couldn’t open your eyes. Clenching your jaw, you slapped your thigh and without looking at Benny, you spun on your heel and threw open a window.

You weren’t sure if you were lucky or what, but a cruiser was driving down the avenue, so you screamed as hard as you could.

* * *

John didn’t want to leave Y/N, but she did make a good point. He’d spend the rest of his days in jail for a murder he didn’t mean to commit. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, but he did as she asked, and snuck out the back door of the apartment building. Just as he came out the alley, a scream tore through the pitch and it drove goosepimples down his spine.

Now what? He couldn’t go back to Cain; he’d certainly kill John. He had no family in town and every other friend he’d had, worked for Cain. That didn’t leave many doors open to him.

While his mind rambled a million miles a minute, he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings until he found himself in front of the bus station. That’s when he remembered hearing something through the grapevine a while back about a gangster that got out from under the thumb of someone even worse than Cain. Not a lot of details were given about Dean and how he got away from Crowley, but John didn’t really care. If anyone could help him right now, it was Dean.

Sneaking into the bathroom, John scrubbed himself clean of another man’s blood as best he could, ‘borrowed’ a trenchcoat and fedora from someone not paying attention, and headed up to the counter.

The older man looked at him through thick lenses, narrowing his eyes just enough to unnerve John, “What can I get for you, son?”

“One ticket to Louisiana.”


	6. Chapter 6

_I want to thank[@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog](https://tmblr.co/mkkGfeRe6GdIwHJedHNHoAQ) for granting her permission to use [Gangster Dean](http://deansdirtylittlesecretsblog.tumblr.com/post/136040800136/gangster-dean-winchester-au) and Sam._

* * *

 

Still wearing the blood-soaked bathrobe, you wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to keep your teeth from chattering. It wasn’t that you were cold, it was just an effect of all the adrenaline disappearing. Then there was the fact that your best friend’s body still laid there; uncovered, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Ma’am,” the officer in front of you snapped into focus, “what happened next?”

You tried without success to clear the emotion from your throat, “I.. I grabbed the switchblade from my nightstand.”

Officer Fitzgerald jotted down what you said in his notebook, “Is it normal for you to be in possession of a weapon?”

“It was my husband’s. He… he died in the war.” While that was not exactly a lie about the switchblade, you left out the fact that you didn’t keep the one sent back with his remains. Tommy had bought a matching set; one for him and one for Benny, specially designed for the childhood best friends.

“Then what?”

You looked at him, eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying, “What’s it look like? I stabbed him.”

Fitzgerald took a deep breath before continuing, “I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you, ma’am, but we need as many details as possible. So please, walk me through what happened.”

So you did. You told him everything that had happened; removing Johnny from the equation, that is. According to you, someone broke into your apartment late at night and you were scared for your life.

“But it turned out to be a friend of yours.”

You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, “I didn’t know that then! He didn’t say anything when he came in. I… I thought it was… I thought it was someone comin’ to rob me!”

The other officers in your small apartment looked at you then; pity written all over their faces. Being a widow of war, you knew that look all too well and you hated it. You rolled your neck under the weight of their gaze, wishing that they would just take Benny’s body and leave.

The officer made a final note in his book before pocketing it, “Do you have someplace you can stay?”

Sniffling loudly, you gave a small shrug, “Y- yeah.” The only person you could think of right away was Ruby. She wasn’t only your boss, she had become your friend over the last year. You didn’t think she would have a problem with you staying.

“Why don’t you get your things and I’ll drop you off?”

Thirty minutes later, you were sitting outside the club still inside the cruiser. Officer Fitzgerald opened the door and held out his hand, “We’ll let you know when the apartment has been cleared.”

Your legs felt heavy as you stood from the car, the bag containing several days worth of clothes hanging off your forearm, “Thank you, Officer Fitz-”

“Please, call me Garth,” he took off his hat and ran a hand through wispy brown hair. The lack of a hat immediately made him look younger.

“Thank you, Garth.”

“Is there anything else I can do, ma’am?”

The door in the alley that led to Ruby’s apartment opened, flooding it with light, “I’m good.”

* * *

Ruby, sitting next to you, draped a blanket around your shoulders after you dropped to the couch. You had taken a long hot bath and drank about half a bottle of wine; the good kind, so it went straight to your head.

Your vision blurred as you curled into her, raven hair that smelled like lilies and lavender brushed over your nose, “Thank you, Ruby.”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead and threaded her fingers through your damp hair, “What are friends for?”

Sinking further into her satin and lace clad body, you sighed heavily, “I sure made a mess of things.” Ruby knew the truth about what happened; how it was John that accidentally killed Benny. You trusted her with your life so there was no need for secrets.

“No, you did what you needed to do, sweetie.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it.”

* * *

John waved the fedora in his face as he walked up the drive, the humidity was thick and the bugs were loud in his ears. His back and neck ached from sitting on the bus for almost three days, and the further south he travelled, the stickier the air became. A shower and an ice cold drink were what he needed. But he didn’t crash at a motel or stop at a bar. Instead he went straight to Dean Winchester’s house.

The whereabouts of Dean hadn’t been too hard to find; all you had to was ask the right person, and if anyone knew how to ask all the right questions, it was John.

With the stolen jacket draped over his arm, John placed the hat atop his sweat-dampened head and knocked on the front door. Straightening his tie, he hoped he didn’t look too disheveled.

The door opened a moment later. A woman with wide eyes and a newborn child in her arms smiled brightly, “Hello.”

John took off his hat and gave her his best smile, “Good afternoon, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I could speak to Dean.”

* * *

The ice cold lemonade felt incredible as John emptied the glass. He drank three glasses before turning down the repeated offer of a refill. Knowing he had a lot of explaining and convincing to do, John looked at Dean, who was wearing a scowl that pursed his lips.

“You do realize that by coming here you’ve put my family in danger.” The last thing Dean wanted was to have his family in the line of fire, again. He had gotten out from under Crowley’s reign, but it hadn’t been easy.

“I do and I’m sorry to ask this of you, but… I need a place to stay. It won’t be for long, just until things settle down back home.”

Dean clenched his jaw, “You can’t stay here.”

John’s stomach dropped heavily, “I don’t have anywhere else-”

“Dean, can I talk to you for a minute?” Despite the fact she asked a question, there was a subtle tone of authority to her voice that left no room for argument.

With a curt nod, Dean stopped drumming his nails on the table and followed his wife into the front room. “I know what you’re going to say, doll, but he can’t stay here.”

“And why not?” eyes that he had fallen in love with flashed in irritation.

Dean scraped a hand over his face, “There’s the fact that we don’t know who he is.”

“He told us his name.” As if that was all she needed to know about someone to help them out.

“If you thought getting away from Crowley was tough… no, it’s too dangerous.” Cain had a reputation that made everyone nervous; mob bosses included. He was without conscience, regret, remorse; the man was a not-quite-certified sociopath. “I can’t put you at risk like that, not now,” as if to prove his point, the new father reached out to caress his son’s head.

She stepped closer and wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist, “As long as you’re here to protect us, we’ll be fine. Let the man stay.”

Dean strode into the kitchen and dropped a hand to John’s shoulder, “You can stay, but only for a week.”

Standing tall, John reached out and shook Dean’s hand, “Thank you.”

* * *

It was late when John sat on the back porch and watched much needed rain clouds approach. Hinges on the back door squealed, making him turn to see who was joining him.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

John shook his head and slid over, making room on the swing, “Not at all. Listen, thanks again-”

Raising a hand, she didn’t let him finish his sentence, “You’ve thanked us enough, John.”

A cool breeze blew through the trees and the pair of them closed their eyes as it caressed their damp skin. Dean’s wife was the first to say anything, “You say you got a girl back home?”

“I did. After what happened, I’m not so sure.”

She dropped a hand to his and squeezed, “But you want to be with her.”

John met her reassuring gaze, “More than anything.”

“And you want out of this life.”

“I’ll give it all up for her.”

Smiling, she patted his hand, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

* * *

It was Wednesday night when Ruby came hustling into the room, eyes wide and breathing heavily. You were drying your hands when you heard the door close, her voice shaking as she called your name.

“Ruby, what is it?” You took her shaking hands in yours.

She swallowed hard before answering you with one word; one name, “Cain.”


	7. Chapter 7

_I want to thank[@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog](https://tmblr.co/mkkGfeRe6GdIwHJedHNHoAQ) for granting her permission to use [Gangster Dean](http://deansdirtylittlesecretsblog.tumblr.com/post/136040800136/gangster-dean-winchester-au) and Sam._

* * *

 

Cain. His name echoed in your mind before being drowned out by the rush of blood. Ruby stood in front of you, her hands on your shoulders, saying something you couldn’t hear. If Cain was here then you knew things were about to go from bad to worse. If Cain was here-

Ruby’s hand connected with your cheek and it almost sent you to the floor, “You hear me, Y/N? You gotta get outta here!” Her eyes were wide with the fear that strained her voice.

You shook your head, blinking heavily at the sting of pain, “No.”

“What do you mean, no? Are you a fat-head?” She grabbed your arm and started pulling you towards the door that led to the alley.

Wrenching your arm from her grip, you stared at her, “Ruby, stop! I’m not running from him. He’s… he’s just a man.”

“A man that has the whole of Detroit under his thumb.” She had a point. Cain had been ‘in charge’ of Detroit for the past decade. But that didn’t mean he could just march in and demand whatever he wanted, right?

You swallowed hard and untied the apron, throwing it on the couch behind Ruby. “He doesn’t scare me.”

“He should.”

Taking a look at yourself in the small mirror by the door, you smoothed down the fly-aways and took a deep breath before exiting the still open door Ruby had barged through moments ago. The butterflies in your belly spun and fluttered, threatening to climb up your throat the closer you got to the club.

Cain sat at the bar, a glass spinning between his long fingers. You were surprised to see that he was alone. After all the stories, you expected him to be surrounded by the gangsters he employed. His crystal eyes were on you the moment you parted the curtain. It took you by surprise by how attractive he was, that was the last thing you expected to feel towards the man that beat up Johnny; or had Johnny beat up. Either way, the lazy flop of your belly set you on edge.

He stood as you approached, smiling and buttoning the jacket to his expensive suit, “You must be Y/N.”

You tipped your head in greeting, “I am. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was hoping we could talk,” Cain held out his arm, offering it to you so you’d walk with him.

Forcing a smile, you slid your hand in the crook of his elbow and let him lead you to a table. After you sat down, a curvy waitress bustled over and took the drink order. It wasn’t until the whiskey was placed in front of you that Cain spoke.

“I hear Johnny boy has taken a liking to you.”

Hoping he didn’t see the slight tremor of your hand, you took a long pull of whiskey. “You’ve heard correctly.”

Something sinister twinkled in his eyes, “Do you happen to know where he’s run off to?”

“No. I haven’t heard from him since-” your throat grew thick and tears pricked your eyes.

Cain rested a hand over yours and lowered his voice, “I heard about your friend. My sincerest condolences.”

You sniffled loudly, running the back of your hand under your nose, “Thank you.”

When he didn’t pull his hand back, confusion bubbled in your belly. “I have a proposition for you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not that kind of lady.”

His strong fingers tightened on your hand, “Not that kind of proposition, doll. I know how to get John back in town. You must miss him.”

Of course you missed the man you loved, but the way Cain looked at you made you realize why he had the whole of Detroit in his back pocket. “I- I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Only when you bit your bottom lip did Cain release his grip with a small smile, “I don’t wish any harm upon you.”

“Please leave.”

With his jaw clenched, Cain stood and buttoned the dark blue suit jacket, “I’ll leave, but expect to hear from me very soon.”

You about collapsed into the chair after the door slammed shut. What were you going to do? You had no idea where John had run off to and Benny… Benny was dead. There was no one left for you to turn to and you knew of no safe haven. With Ruby’s hand suddenly on your shoulder, you fell apart.

* * *

John swiped a handkerchief against his sweat-slicked forehead, “Damn, it’s thick here, ain’t it?”

Dean mirrored John, smirking at him as they stopped their work, “It is, but it’s home for us.” He smiled and waved a hand at his wife as she hung laundry to dry.

“Sure would be nice to have a place like this.”

Clapping John on the shoulder, Dean’s smile turned to a slight frown, “Who says you can’t?”

“Cain won’t make it easy, that’s for sure.”

“Do you love her?”

John’s eyes flashed, “Course I do.”

Dean held up a hand as he watched anger flash across John’s face. “And you’d do anything for her.”

“Anything.”

“So go to her.”

John ground his teeth and stared at the freshly turned dirt. “What if she won’t have me after what I done?”

Silence stretched between them for several beats before Dean cleared his throat, “You mean Benny.”

“He was her best friend.. her dead husband’s best friend and I killed him!”

“John, you can’t beat yourself up about that. You were defending yourself. You think she would have told you to run and take the blame if she didn’t love you, if she didn’t want you to come back?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. I got a brother that lives near Detroit. Let me make a couple of calls and see if we can get your girl out of harm’s way.”

John tried not to look too hopeful at the offer because he knew just how far Cain’s wrath and influence reached. “You don’t understand, Dean. Cain is-”

“Is something we’ll deal with if, and when, the time calls for it. But if she is what you want, if this is what you want,” Dean gestured to the house where his son was sleeping and his wife, “then say yes to the help I’m offering.”

He wanted the help, it wasn’t that he didn’t. But putting other people in harm’s way like that? “Are you sure? Your family-”

“Will be fine. We’ve already talked about it.”

Taking a deep breath, John looked around. There was no doubt he wanted a normal life with Y/N by his side,. Maybe they would have a couple of kids, but first things first. John nodded at Dean, “Alright, give your brother a call.”

* * *

You slowly pulled the door open after insistent knocking pulled you from another round of nightmares. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you found a tall man cloaked in shadow. Thinking it was one of Cain’s goons, you jumped back and opened your mouth to scream.

He moved faster than lightning; placing a hand over your mouth and kicking the door shut behind him. He hunched over, long brown hair falling out from under a grey fedora, “Shhh! I’m not here to hurt you.”

Gripping his wrist, you panted against his hand and watched his eyes change from dark brown with flecks of gold to hazel with green around the pupil as light bled under the brim of his hat. You nodded once, licking your lips once his hand was gone.

“Who are you?”

He pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, “Name’s Sam. I have a message from John.”

“Oh, my God, is he ok?!” Panic coursed through you, kick-starting your already over-stressed heart.

Sam smiled gently, “John is fine, Y/N, but I need you to pack a bag; only what you need.”

“Why, where are we going?”

“I can’t tell you that right now.”

You took a step back. Despite the sincerity in his voice and features, you suddenly didn’t trust him, “H- how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You didn’t kill Benny. John did, but it was an accident.”

At the mention of your dead friend’s name, tears pricked your eyes. You sniffled and bit the inside of your cheek. “Did you talk to him?”

Sam nodded, “He’s with my brother. Now please, pack quickly. Judging by what I’ve heard about Cain, it won’t be long before he knows I’m here. The longer we wait, the better the chances are of him trying to stop us.”

The last thing you wanted was to see Cain again. “I haven’t got much here, so I’ll only be a few minutes.”

After changing into a baby blue and mint green striped dress, you threw your remaining clothes and few personal items into the large carpet bag; leaving a hastily written note to Ruby on your pillow. With Sam’s hand on your lower back, you disappeared into the dark alley where a car was waiting to take you to John.


	8. Chapter 8

_I want to thank[@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog](https://tmblr.co/mkkGfeRe6GdIwHJedHNHoAQ) for granting her permission to use [Gangster Dean](http://deansdirtylittlesecretsblog.tumblr.com/post/136040800136/gangster-dean-winchester-au) and Sam._

* * *

 

The dress was plastered to your back as Sam pulled up the gravel drive. Your heart jumped into your throat at the site of John standing on the white porch. Not waiting until the car stopped, you threw open the door and jumped out; running into John’s open arms. He had his arms around your waist and your feet off the ground as he kissed you fiercely; tears streaking down your face and off your jaw. It wasn’t that you thought you’d never see Johnny again, but a dark cloud of doubt had started to form in your mind.

With your feet back on the ground, John cupped your face, pushing his thumbs through your tears, “Doll, don’t cry.”

Your throat was thick, making it difficult to talk, “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

He kissed your forehead, several days worth of stubble on his chin burned the bridge of your nose, “I ain’t ever leaving you again.”

“Better not!” You latched your arms around his neck and nuzzled into him as you stood on tiptoe.

Sam, with your carpet bag in hand, cleared his throat, “Might wanna take this inside.”

Once in the house, John pulled you into another bone-crushing hug, driving the air from your lungs. You gripped his shoulder blades, holding onto him as if you’d die without him. The two of you stayed like that for several long minutes until the shrieks of a baby burst from the kitchen.

John chuckled, “That’d be Henry, come on.” Threading his fingers with yours, John led you into the kitchen.

Dean stood on principle, “Glad you made it. I’m Dean, this is my wife, H/N. Y/N, you know Sam and this handful, is my son.”

You nodded in greeting before smiling widely at the squirming bundle in Dean’s arms, “Aren’t you handsome!”

H/N winked at Dean, “Just like his daddy.”

Sam sat at the table, your bag by his feet, “What’s your plan, brother?”

“Jumping right into it, I see,” H/N took the now fussy child and rocked him on her hip.

“There’s no reason not to.”

Dean looked at his brother with worry on his brow, “What’s goin’ on?”

“I think we were followed.”

“What?” Four voices sounded in unison.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and squeezed that back of his tight neck, “I… I don’t know for sure.”

Sitting down, Dean crossed his legs and leaned back, “Well, we shouldn’t wait around in case you were followed.”

John, with his arm around your shoulders, cleared his throat, “All I need's a car. I got cash and bonds saved up that Cain don’t know about.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, “Where will we go? How do we know Cain won’t keep following us?”

“We don’t, but there’s no other choice.”

* * *

 

Cain slowed to a stop down the street, watching with eyes narrowed as John stepped off the porch and kissed his dame. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Never before had an employee of his acted with such blatant defiance. After all the time, energy, and money Cain had poured into grooming John Winchester, how was he repaid? By falling in love with some dame and telling Cain that he wanted out!

John was supposed to take over the empire Cain had built from the ground up; he was the only one to show enough grit. To be honest, John was the only one Cain trusted; until he met Y/N. She clouded his mind with her voice and curves. Some might call him hypocritical, seeing how he had his own doll at home, but that was different. Colette never distracted Cain, she encouraged him to do what he loved, even showed him a thing or two. But Y/N… she was trying to get John on the straight and narrow, and Cain couldn’t have that.

Despite the thick air that dampened his skin and hair, Cain sat in the car. He made sure the driver had spotted him, all he had to do now was wait until they made a break for it. Then he’d make his move.

* * *

 

With the sun long since set, you wrung your hands together as you paced. John, Sam, and Dean were still in the kitchen finalizing the plan, but you couldn’t be in there, not when it felt like your heart was going to hammer out of your chest. You loved Johnny with every fiber of your being and you’d follow him to the ends of the earth if it meant the pair of you were safe. But that didn’t mean you weren’t scared. If all the rumors were to be believed, Cain was more than scary; he was a psychopath.

Dean’s wife cleared her throat as she entered the room, “You alright, sweetheart?”

Turning to face her, your eyes snapped into focus and you forced a small smile, “The jury is still out on that one.”

She handed you a cup of tea which you took a drink of, “Can I ask you something, H/N?”

“Of course.”

“When you went through all of this with Dean, were you scared?”

Her rich laugh washed over you, “Oh, honey, scared was only the beginning of how I felt. Are you having second thoughts?”

“No! Nothing like that. I’m just...” you shrug, not really sure of how you can express your feelings without sounding like a child.”

H/N took the almost empty cup and placed it on the table before resting her hands on your shoulders. “Trust me, I know exactly how you’re feeling. But being around Dean and knowing he’d do anything to protect me, there was no greater feeling than that; second to falling in love, that is. That man in there loves you and would do anything for you.”

Giving her a soft smile, you pulled her into a hug, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And after all of this blows over, don’t be strangers, ok?”

“I’d like that.”

The kitchen door creaked open for the men, Dean leading the way, “Make sure to tell him I sent you. He’s off his rocker, but he’s the most trustworthy man I know; present company excluded.”

Sam chuckled, “Bobby’ll get you where you need to go without anyone knowing.”

John shook each of their hands, “Thank you for all your help.”

“Everything ready?”

Turning, John shot you a reassuring smile, “All set, doll.”

After everyone said their goodbye’s, John backed out of the drive. With his arm around your shoulder, you snuggled into his side and closed your eyes, breathing him in.

He dropped a kiss to your crown, “We’ll be there in a day or so, doll.”

“I know. I just want this all behind us.”

Drawing his fingers along your exposed arm, John sighed, “Me, too.”

Wind rushed into the car, cutting through the thick humidity like a knife as he drove out of town. The pitch that surrounded the vehicle, the gentle sway of it, and John’s calloused hand on your skin lulled you to sleep.

The next thing you heard was John’s harsh whisper, “Doll, wake up.”

You sat up and wiped at your eyes, “Wha- what’s wrong?”

Light reflected off the mirror and into John’s face. He gripped the steering wheel and every inch of him was thrumming with fear, “It’s Cain.”

Whirling around, you looked through the back window where a car was speeding towards you. The lights grew closer and closer until you couldn’t see them anymore. “Johnny!”

“Hold on, doll!”

The car lunged forward as it was struck from behind. Tires squealed on the road as John fought for control. He ground his teeth and stomped his foot down on the slender gas pedal. You shrieked, curling up on the seat as the other car rammed yours again.

“What are we gonna do?!”

John just shook his head, large eyes darting back and forth from the road to the mirror. He didn’t have an answer and that scared you more than anything. With every collision, John lost a little more control of the car, tires squealing louder and louder.

It happened when you grabbed his shoulder. Cain got the front of his car next to the back tire and jerked the wheel, sending your car spinning. Rubber and metal squealed on the road as the car flipped. You and John tumbled inside the car as it continued to flip before finally halting to a stop in the tall grass.

The hissing of the radiator and ticking of the engine pulled you from the darkness that swirled in your brain. Pain exploded everywhere, sending waves of adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream. You wanted to call out for John, but every time you tried, your throat seized from all the smoke filling the car and that’s when you realized what the heat at your back was. 

Can had thrown a match into the small puddle of gasoline.


	9. Chapter 9

_I want to thank[@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog](https://tmblr.co/mkkGfeRe6GdIwHJedHNHoAQ) for granting her permission to use [Gangster Dean](http://deansdirtylittlesecretsblog.tumblr.com/post/136040800136/gangster-dean-winchester-au) and Sam._

* * *

 

The heat of the flames intensified against your back and the smoke thickened with each passing second. You tried to pull your legs free, but they were pinned between the seat and the floor. Your panicked gaze fell to Johnny. There was blood seeping from a gash by his right eye and he wasn’t moving. Choking on a thick sob, you grabbed his limp, bloody hand. With a prayer on your lips, black began to eat at your vision as the smoke filled your lungs when you heard shouts.

God knows you tried to cry out for help as one last surge of adrenaline pushed away the beckoning darkness. You tried looking through the broken windows, but the smoke was too thick to see anything. All you knew was that men were shouting and fighting. Just when it felt like all hope of a rescue might be lost, two shots rang through the dark. Moments later hands fumbled under your arms and pulled. You cried out as the seat dug deeper into your legs, holding you hostage inside the burning car.

The man behind you swore. “SAAAAAAM!”

Sam slid to a stop behind his brother and dropped to his knees. His large hands traveled along your body in search of where you were stuck. “Shit, it’s her legs.”

“Go on the other side and get John out. I’ll work on the seat.”

While Sam tore off around the back of the burning car, Dean dropped down, his face mere inches from yours. He pulled a bandana from his pocket and placed it over your nose and mouth, “Breathe through this, sweetheart.”

He wriggled into the car as best he could to get a better look at how the seat had you pinned. You watched as John’s hand was pulled from yours, leaving your fingers streaked with his blood.

“He’s not breathing!”

Dean looked at you then, watching as you began to fall apart, “Doll, we’re not gonna let him die, ok?” Despite the tears streaking through the soot on your face, you nodded.

His calloused hand found your calves and ankles and he breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that nothing was broken, or worse, severed. “Move your feet for me, doll.” It was painful, but after you gave them a wiggle, he slid out of the car, sat down, stuck his legs next to yours, and hooked his feet on the edge of the metal-framed seat. “On three.”

You tossed the rag outside and sat up as best you could, grabbing the window frame. When Dean reached the number three, he bore down and pushed the seat up with his legs. With shaking arms, you pulled against the car and scrambled out as fast as you could. Your feet had barely cleared the car when Dean’s legs released the seat, sending a loud clang through the night.

With Dean’s arm around your waist, he half-carried you to the other side of the wreckage where Sam was working diligently on John. Dean dropped to his knees and began pushing on John’s chest to give Sam a break to catch his breath.

The sight of John not breathing and bloody cut through you, leaving you even more breathless than the black smoke had. Sam stood next to you and pulled you into him, “He’ll be ok.”

You gripped onto Sam’s shirt, “He has to be.”

With every push on John’s chest, Dean grunted. He’d stop every fifth compression and check for a pulse. Finding none, he resumed the attempt to save a man’s life. Just when it felt like it was no use, John gagged on the smoke in his throat and lungs.

Dean rolled John to his side, where he gagged and coughed some more, retching up thick soot into the soil. When the fire popped loudly, Sam rushed over to get John off the ground.

“It’s gonna blow.”

John was wedged between Sam and Dean, the dead weight of him making it awkward to run as far away as possible. Your legs and feet throbbed as you ran through the grass, making it to the road moments before the blazing flames consumed the gas tank.

##  **Two days later**

You limped into the living room where John was sleeping on the couch. He still coughed, even in his sleep, but it was slowly starting to get better. You still struggled with your cough, cringing as your lungs and ribs ached with every constriction. The gash on face had been stitched together by Dean’s wife. Despite the amazing job she did, there would still be one hell of a scar when it was all healed.

Sam was sitting on the front porch swing, standing when you came out. You accepted his hand as he helped you walk to the swing, sitting slowly. He waited until you were seated before dropping carefully next to you, using his long legs to rock the swing gently. With his arm behind you, you dropped your head onto his shoulder and closed your eyes.

The two of you stayed like that for several long minutes before you looked up at him, “Tell me what happened, Sam.”

Golden-hazel eyes flicked to you and thick brows furrowed together, “I… I shouldn’t.” No one had said a word to you about what happened the other night, keeping it between the men only. Not even H/N really knew what transpired, though she put up one hell of a fuss.

You huffed in frustration, “I’m not a child, Sam. I know Cain is dead. I just want to know-”

“How?” Sam scraped a hand over his face before giving into your request, “It was part of the plan to follow you out of town. So when Cain drove after you, Dean and I followed him, making sure to hang back a little; didn’t want him to know we were onto him. We would have been there a lot sooner, but a train came through town right after Cain crossed the tracks. We could feel the heat of the fire on the road.” Sam scoffed softly, “You know, for being older, Cain sure knows how to handle himself; he took the both of us on.”

“I heard shots.”

“We got knocked down and Cain pulled a gun. I rushed him while Dean got his attention... wrestled the gun away.”

You knew what Sam was getting at, “You shot him.”

“It was him or us.” Us included John and yourself.

Curling into Sam’s side, you gave him a hug, “Thank you.”

He squeezed you into him and kissed your crown. You might have only known each other a handful of days, but the five of you had quickly become tight friends; some might even use the word family. It wasn’t until the cicacads became too loud that you moved into the house, leaning on Sam for support. You didn’t obtain any broken bones in the crash, just some deep bruising that left you dependent on others at times.

John was coming out of the kitchen just then, “Hey, doll.”

Taking John’s hand in yours, you smiled at Sam, thanking him for the help. Unable to stand on your toes, you pulled John down by the collar of his shirt and kissed him softly.

You touched the edge of his eye, “How’re you feeling?”

One of his broad shoulders bobbed, “Better than yesterday.”

“They said we could stay as long as we needed, until we’re ready to head out on our own.”

John hummed as he kissed you, “What would you think about staying down here?”

With a brow arched, you leaned back a little to get a better look at him, “For good?”

“It’s just a notion.”

You looped your arms around his neck, “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah? It’ll be a hell of a change, that’s for sure.”

The weight of his hands on your back held you close to him. “We could both do with a change.”

He smiled wide, wincing slightly at the pinch of his stitches. “H/N was tellin’ me ‘bout a house for sale just down the street.”

“Let’s buy it.”

Leaning down to rub his nose against yours, John cupped your face in a hand, “Already did, doll.”


	10. Big, Bad, Handsome Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year after finally breaking free from Cain, you and John are settling down nicely.

Before you knew it, a year passed by and all the worries of retaliation from Cain’s thugs and associates washed away. You and Johnny no longer felt like you needed to look over your shoulders or that someone was going to jump out of the shadows or that the other shoe was going to drop; you could finally _**live**_ your life. **  
**

Dean and his wife helped the two of you with everything you could possibly need in your new house and life. Dean worked with his employer, getting John a steady job at the garage; despite the chronic limp from the accident that almost claimed his life. Meanwhile, H/N and their son kept you company every day. It didn’t matter what you passed the time doing, you had a family with John, Dean, and H/N; you were happy and safe.

You hadn’t stopped writing music or singing, to John mostly, but Henry didn’t seem to mind it either, cooing and babbling happily when you sang. The itch to perform got to be too much to ignore, so you started looking for a job. As luck would have it, there was a nightclub in town that was looking to hire entertainment. Better yet, you could start right away.

Your hands were shaking when you approached the manager. “Do you have a moment Mr. Singer?”

Blue eyes sparkled behind black-framed glasses. Bobby was a widower in his late 40’s. He had opened Singer’s Saloon a handful of years after his wife died, in her memory of course. He tried to act tough, but it was just a front; deep down, he was a big ol’ softie. “Of course, doll. And please, call me Bobby.”

He’s told you that every day since you started, but your mama didn’t raise you that way. “Mr. Singer, I was wondering if it would be ok to sing a song I wrote.”

He looked through the papers you handed over, trying to hide a smile as he started humming along with the notes drawn above the lyrics. You wrung your hands together as you waited for his reaction. Whether he gave the stamp of approval or denied your request, you were just glad that he was even mulling it over.

It felt like a hummingbird was in your chest and about to climb up your throat when he nodded. “Yeah, it’s good, doll.”

“Really?” If you thought your heart would slow down, you were wrong; it actually missed a couple beats.

Pulling off his glasses, Bobby shot you a wink and handed over the sheet music. “Really. You want to debut it tonight or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow. Want to give the band some time to learn the music. I mean, if that’s alright.”

Bobby stood and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s alright. Now, you better shove off and get ready for the show. Crowd’s startin’ to pile in.”

* * *

Wearing a tight crimson dress, you stood in the middle of the stage and waited for the piano and trumpet to start playing. Over the years, singing in front of an audience had become second nature, but all of those songs had been written by someone else, never by you. Tonight, debuting a song you had penned, felt like the very first night you ever stepped on a stage. Just when it was almost your time to sing, the door opened and in walked the man the song had been written about.

“This song goes out to my big, bad, handsome man.”

 _The man is tall, bad, mean, and good looking_  
And he’s got me in his eye  
When he looks at me, I go weak at the knees  
Got me going like no other guy

Even in the dim lighting, you could see Johnny smiling. You had managed to keep the song a surprise, only asking him to come for your final number.

“Anything for my girl,” he promised.

 _‘Cause he’s my big, bad, handsome man, yeah_  
He’s got me in the palm of his hand  
He’s the devil divine, I’m so glad that he’s mine  
Cause he’s my big, bad, handsome man, oh

Jody emerged from the bar, bringing a double shot of whiskey with her. She dropped a friendly kiss to his cheek as the glass was placed in front of him.

 _The music he plays, the way he moves me and sways_  
Rocks me to the core  
When he sings in my ear  
He makes me shiver and leer  
Leaves me wanting more and more

Pulling the microphone from its stand and exiting the stage was a last minute decision. It was exactly what you had done that first night at Ruby’s, the first time you saw John Winchester. So many things had happened in the past year, he wasn’t the man he had once been, but you didn’t fall in love with him because of who he was. You feel in love with him for who he was going to be. And man, were you excited for who he was going to be.

 _‘Cause he’s my big, bad, handsome man, yeah_  
He’s got me in the palm of his hand  
He’s the devil divine, I’m so glad that he’s mine  
‘Cause he’s my big, bad, handsome man, oh

You were at his table, strutting around him, dragging your fingers over his shoulders, legs peeking through the high slit of your dress. And just like that first night, you pulled off his hat and set it atop your head.

 _With his rugged good looks, yeah, he’s got me hooked_  
Got me where he wants me to be  
With his arms so wide, he pulls me in by his side  
He’s the kind of guy that does it for me

Shooting him a wink, you bent down and pressed a kiss to his lips, staining them crimson. He grabbed your waist and pulled you down to his lap, his large hands on your thigh and the small of your back. The audience started to clap and cheer.

 _‘Cause he’s my big, bad, handsome man, yeah_  
He’s got me in the palm of his hand  
He’s the devil divine, I’m so glad that he’s mine  
‘Cause he’s my big, bad, handsome man, oh

John, smirking wickedly, grabbed your chin and kissed you fiercely, smearing the stain on your lips. Standing, you pulled off the hat and waved it back and forth, hoping your body temperature dropped fast enough to hide the blush on your cheeks.

_My big bad handsome man, yeah_  
He’s got me in the palm of his hand  
He’s the devil divine, I’m so glad that he’s mine  
‘Cause he’s my big, bad, I’m so glad that he’s my handsome man, hmm

You made it back to the stage just in time for the lights to fade. The last note faded and in its place erupted cat calls and applause.

* * *

John was waiting for you at the bar, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, whiskey in front of him. He and Jody were laughing over the punchline of a bad joke when you slid onto the stool, shooting your friend a wink.

“You hittin’ on my man?” you joked, looping your arm through John’s as if to make a point.

Jody laughed loudly and tossed back a shot of whiskey. “Honey, ain’t nobody got the balls to hit on him after tonight.”

“My lips still all red?”

You turned to John and ran your thumb over his full bottom lip. “Just a little, but I got something at home that’ll take care of that.”

Without asking, a glass was placed in front of you. Jody raised hers, along with John, and gave a small toast, “To one hell of a closing number.”

You slid the glass over to John. “You can have it.”

The atmosphere changed in a heartbeat. John’s eyes were full of concern, brow heavy with worry. With his knuckles resting on your forehead, he asked, “You ok, doll?”

Sighing happily, you grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You know how we’ve been talking about starting a family?”

John nodded, watching as you pressed his hand against your belly. You weren’t far along, just a few weeks. Having only found out this morning, you were still wrapping your mind around it. “I’m gonna have a baby, Johnny.”  Jody’s eyes went wide and she gasped audibly, covering her mouth to keep from screaming in delight.

It took John a moment to react, and in that moment, you didn’t know what to think. Not until he smiled wide and looked at you with those big eyes of his, sheer happiness shining in them. “Yeah? I’m… I’m gonna be a dad?”

Tears pricked your eyes and emotion clogged your throat. “Yeah. That ok?”

John couldn’t answer you, because he was too busy kissing you. Arms tight around your waist, he pulled you off the chair, spinning until you thought his legs would give out. When he set you down, you were breathless from the kiss, your mind still whirling about, hands gripping the lapels of his longcoat.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you breathed.

“That’s a hell yes, doll.” He kissed you quickly before throwing his arms in the air and shouting, “I’m gonna be a dad!” You covered your mouth as you laughed, watching as your big, bad, handsome man jogged around the bar and enveloped Jody in a bear hug, pulling her off the ground as he had done with you.

Once her feet were planted firmly on the floor, Jody bent down and grabbed a bottle of the oldest whiskey they had. “Drinks on me! Not you though,” she said while chuckling. “Hey Donna!”

Moments later, a woman with long blond hair poked her head around the corner. “Hey, Jodi-o. What’s goin’ on?”

“Get Bobby and the sparkling apple cider, we got some celebratin’ to do.”


End file.
